Sometimes when sitting alone, I forget what I look like.
I become a shadow. A reflection of my own absence.
Then the senses begin to drift off, to obscure themselves, reality's
implications leaving with.
  as my vision fades to vacancy, the eternal blackness opens itself to
  me. the endless empty.
   a speck of dust floating across the sky, a lone pebble in the vast
   ocean's contingent silence, a single face in a grey and absent
   crowd, millions strong. this is me. this is who i become.
    a locked obstruction of fleshy exhaustion, holding within its
    walls a light so delicate, so pure, that it can never leave. it can
    never move beyond the clammy fabric by which its value will
    forever be decided,
     but this is something i try to forget as the cool liquid nothingness
     bends its way through and around my gentle, fragile mind.
      i want to cry, but i cannot.
       i must look forward. i must only look forward.
        until time itself becomes an indifferent childhood memory, lost
        to its own downcast existence.
         There is no beginning.
          There is no end.
           Just an eternal in-between.